Morning
by EmmaWilder
Summary: It had been one year since the last time they had done this. Stolen kisses in empty classrooms. Passing touches in the corridors. The Room of Requirement had been put to interesting use that year. And here they were again.


**Disclaimer** : Anything recognizable doesn't belong to me. The wonderful world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.

One year.

It had been one year since the last time they had done this. Stolen kisses in empty classrooms. Passing touches in the corridors. And finally, those endless nights where they made love for hours on end. The Room of Requirement had been put to interesting use that year.

Hermione stretched out in the large bed, reaching out to only find empty space beside her. Gone again. As always. She curled into his side of the bed, burying her head in his pillow, reliving every delicious moment. She knew what she had been getting into. He had warned her from the start. When she had returned to Hogwarts to finish her studies the year after the Second War had ended, the boys hadn't joined her. Not many students had. But he had. He had a focus about him that had been missing in their youth. A drive to succeed in his studies, as if it could guide him into a more promising future. She had been a celebrity, though she did her best to avoid those who viewed her that way. And at the very least, most people regarded him warily, so they steered clear of him. Yet these two opposing figures found common ground in their academic interests and a relationship of sorts started. A tentative friendship that had exploded into a passionate affair.

Hiding it made sense to her at first. And it hadn't been that difficult really, not with their friends out of the picture. He often found places to be away from the prying eyes and judging gazes. His company provided her with a sense of peace. But she knew better than to think that she could tell Harry or Ron about this. They would be furious. They wouldn't understand. And if the press found out. Well they would have a field day. It was best to keep things in the shadows. Particularly after that first glorious kiss.

Hermione closed her eyes. She could have pushed him away. She could have ended in right in that moment. But _that kiss_. She relived the sensation every time his lips touched hers. She could always get lost in his kiss. Heat simmered in her veins, her nerves tingled, and she couldn't think of anything but the feel of him. In all her experiences, few as they had been, she had never been so carried away in the moment. This is what people wrote books about. Wrote songs about.

Reluctantly, Hermione rose from the bed and began to dress. This morning after was the same as any other. She had been furious that first time he left her. Had he thought it was a mistake? But as he so logically pointed out, it would be much more obvious if they had been caught leaving the room together. Was he supposed to walk her to her dorm and kiss her goodnight? His snide comment had hurt, but rang of truth. And the next night he had made it up to her. Whispering sweet nothings and dirty words until she clung to him breathlessly. Some nights he would stay longer. They'd discuss current events, classes, even books, to her utter delight. But the morning after was always the same. The space beside her empty and the warmth of the bed was the only indication that someone else had shared it with her.

That last night in the castle, she had thought it would be the last. The last time he would oh so slowly kiss her senseless. The last time of that sweet and passionate urgency that overcame her when they were together.

They hadn't said the words. They both knew that nothing would come of this outside the castle walls.

And nothing had. She hadn't seen him for a year. Oh, she caught glimpses of him now and then. In Diagon Alley. At the Ministry, where she now worked. Once recently in Hogsmeade. A trip made with Harry and Ron for old time's sake. Which had quickly turned into just her and Ron, as Harry suddenly got ill.

She remembered his face as she had exited Honeydukes. Ron had lost the grip on his abundant purchases and they both lunged for them, laughing. She had looked up to see hard grey ice chips staring right into hers. Noting the way Ron had grasped her hand in the process of grabbing the bags. And everything rushed back.

He had found her in Muggle London. She hadn't even thought to ask why he was there. The surprise had been too great. She had a flat in Diagon Alley, so that she could pop into the Muggle world as often as she wished. And there he was. Leaning against some random wall, watching her. Knowing she'd come to him. And she did.

And now here she was, in his bed again. Having an affair with Draco Malfoy. 

It was morning. Dawn's morning light had begun to creep through the curtains. No more time to hide away in the shadows. Draco turned to look at his companion. The one woman who turned his head and his heart upside down. He gently brushed an errant curl from her cheek. This was the hardest part. Leaving Hermione in morning had always been difficult. He imagined what it would be like to wake up with her, just once. But it was too risky. Staying until dawn was risky too. But he always struggled to leave.

Today was like any other though. The risks were still the same. He quietly slipped from the bed, determined not to wake her. Stealthily he donned his clothes, socks, shoes. As he finished buttoning his shirt, he paused a moment to watch her.

When he had seen her come out of Honeydukes with Weasley a month ago, he knew his feelings hadn't changed. He hadn't put her out of mind as efficiently as he'd thought. He _hated_ seeing them together. The fierce possessiveness, the pang of hurt at the thought of her with someone else had been staggering. Not that he'd let it show in public. He'd learnt long ago to hide his feelings behind a mask of indifference. People were safer that way.

But he hadn't been able to get her out of his head. He needed to see her. It was worth the risk, just one more time. So he found her. Not that it had been hard. He remembered everything they had discussed. He knew she liked to visit her parents on Sundays. That she preferred walking to taking the bus. And it had been oh so easy to cross her path. A surprised and hushed conversation. And then they were kissing as if no time had passed at all. Hot urgent kisses that easily could have gotten out of hand in a public place.

Thankfully his little Gryffindor knew her way around Muggle London. Within minutes, they had been ensconced in a hotel room, away from prying eyes, free to do as they pleased. It was even more freeing than in Hogwarts, when they could have been found out at any moment.

The urgency of his kisses, her unrelenting fingers as they tugged at his clothes, the utter perfection of being with her, all those memories stayed even in the light of day.

That was the problem.

With one last glance, he exited their room and went back into the harsh unyielding light of day.

Six months.

Six months of secret meetings, stolen nights in random hotel rooms. It was beginning to feel dirty. Shameful. She was lying to her friends and her family, and she hated it.

She only had herself to blame. She couldn't just leave things after that night. That night had been a torturous reminder of what had been. And she had _missed_ him. More than she had realized. So, being the clever girl she was, she found a way to stay in touch with him. Using a random owl at the owlry, she had sent him a charmed piece of parchment. It was charmed so that they could see each other's replies instantly. Owls were recognizable. She had to find another way of communicating.

So they wrote. Back and forth, back and forth. Until they finally admitted that they simply wanted to see each other again. Agreed to meet in the same Muggle hotel, so that they wouldn't be found out.

And so it began. Nights of endless passion. Hot caresses. Urgent kisses. Leisurely exploring each other until the wee hours of the mornings. It was safe in Muggle London. Relatively safe. No one instantly recognized them there.

But now. Yesterday, she had seen him in Diagon Alley, she had seen him with Astoria Greengrass. And had astonished her friends at her vehement reaction when Harry mentioned in passing that he believed they were a couple. She couldn't even remember now how she got herself out of that one. Some quick talking had eased Harry and Ron's bewilderment. But it hadn't soothed her one bit. Was he dating Greengrass? Was she now the other woman? It was different when they were both single. Hidden, yes. But not really hurting anybody. Not anyone but themselves really.

"It's just to appease my mother, Hermione," he had said resignedly. As if he expected her reaction. She had coolly asked it about him once they were behind closed doors. They hadn't fallen into a tangle of limbs and sheets right away that night. She needed answers.

"I haven't gone out since I broke things off with Pansy again last year. And my mother is getting antsy about it. Or I should say, my father is." His gaze had hardened at that. Hermione wanted to scream. She wanted to shout at him, to blast his father, and just come out and say he was in a relationship with her! But she couldn't. Because what type of hypocrite did that make her? She had no intentions of telling Ron or Harry. How could she expect him to reveal the truth to his father?

So instead, she kissed him. Told him without words how much he meant to her. And let reality disappear for one more night. 

Another six months. A year of this affair.

Hermione was done. She couldn't keep doing this anymore. For months he had convinced her, and she had convinced herself, that they could do this. That it wasn't so bad. That all the lies, all the secrets, were worth it to be in this relationship with him. To have that passion in her life. That it was the price she paid because she loved him.

But now when he left in the morning, she broke a little each time. Each time, she felt the end closing in on them. They couldn't go on like this forever. So she told him.

Not that he made it easy. In the afterglow of what she intended to be their last night together, she turned and broke his heart. She was the one who left the bed.

"We can't go on like this you know." She was wrapped in the sheets, facing the wall, unable to face him as she uttered the words neither of them wanted to hear. She heard him rustling behind her and she hastened to get the words out, unsure if she would be able to if he came closer.

"I love you, but we can't. You've tried to convince me that we could make this work, somehow. And some days I've convinced myself that it's worth it." She felt him come behind her, and turn her to face him.

He touched his forehead to hers, his hands holding her waist.

"Let's just run." This was not the first time he'd made this suggestion. And as always, she was oh so tempted. "Hermione, leave with me. We can escape all this. Go and never look back."

"And what of Astoria?" Hermione asked, conflict marring her features. His _fiancée_. The woman his mother all but threw at him in her haste to get him married to a nice Pureblooded witch after he firmly rejected Pansy's attentions. Hermione pulled out of his embrace and went to the window to put some much needed distance between them.

"I don't love her. You know I don't love her." She felt him move until he was standing behind her. She stared at her reflection, wondering how she found herself in this position. Stealing moments with Draco Malfoy in a Muggle hotel. Practically his mistress.

"You proposed to her." That had hurt. Seeing their faces splashed across the front page of _The Prophet_ had hurt her enough to propel her into asking out Ron. Oh Ron. If only he knew who truly held her heart.

"And you've been dating Weasley. It's all window-dressing. Something to keep my father off our backs," with the mention of his father, his voice faltered. He closed the gap between them, burying his face in her hair, wrapping his arms around her so that her back was flush against his chest.

"Paris. Rome. New York. Some obscure little island. We could leave it all and just be together." Hermione let herself be weak for a moment and leant into his embrace. His touch, as always, inflamed and soothed. He had always been that perfect fit. She closed her eyes and let the truth flow from her lips in a resigned breath.

"We'd never escape him. He'd find us. Your mother would go to the ends of the earth to find you." She smiled sadly at that. His mother truly loved him after all. It just wasn't enough to overcome the prejudices that had molded his family for years. "And what about my family? Harry? Ron? The entire Magical community? We'd have to cut ourselves off from it all." He held her even tighter against him, as if that could somehow overcome all the obstacles that stood in their path.

Hermione knew when this had started it could never amount to anything. Harry and Ron would never accept it. Just as his parents never would. They were from two different worlds and Hermione knew they wouldn't collide. She wasn't one to run away from her problems. She'd spent enough time on the run as it was. And the reality was that the spotlight would always be on them. They'd have to abandon it all.

"I love you. It will always be you for me. No one else." He didn't attempt to undermine her arguments. He knew as well as she did that it was impossible.

Draco stared at her, those grey eyes reflecting the pain in her own brown ones.

"We both knew there was no future in this," she murmured. He didn't reply, just pulled her close and kissed her deeply. Hermione gave in. She couldn't resist something that felt so right. She circled her arms around his neck, burying her hands in that find blond hair. And then sighed as she pulled away.

"It's morning Draco." The words fell like a thud in the room. He stared at her, circled a curl around his finger. Waited a long moment before he finally pulled back. Got dressed. She sat back on the bed. Watched him get ready to leave. This was the first time she had ever done that. He went to leave, without looking back, but Hermione couldn't let him leave without another word. It hurt too much. Was it a mistake to end it? Or had it been a mistake to start this in the first place?

"Draco," he paused, his hand on the door. She swallowed against the lump in her throat, determined to make him see how much he had meant to her. "You were the best mistake I ever made."

He didn't move for a full minute, and then turned back to her. He pulled her into a crushing kiss and then stared at her hard.

"I never thought you were a mistake at all."


End file.
